Never Forget
by The Script Machine
Summary: (ONE-SHOT) One summer day while searching through her grandmother's attic, sixteen year-old Tracy Martin finds a box containing the century old gifts of a young, handsome military officer, and her grandmother tells her a story she will never forget. (Captain NichollsxOC. Rated T for mild content. War Horse property of Steven Spielberg and Michael Morpurgo.)


**So this is my first one-shot and my first War Horse story. It's simple really, just something I thought about, oddly, while I was eating a sandwich. Enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: All characters involving War Horse belong to Steven Spielberg and Michael Morpurgo, I only own the OC's present in this story.**

* * *

Tracy Martin blew a lock of her light brown hair away from her face, irritated as it fell back into her vision. She rolled her eyes and continued to shift through the box in front of her, searching for anything to feed her curiosity and severe boredom.

She had never been to Victoria before, her roots being in Toronto, and needless to say, she wasn't enjoying herself. She hated how one minute it would be nice and sunny, then the next it would start to rain, which happened frequently. She wasn't used to the quiet either, she remembered the sounds of traffic and people all around her in Toronto, Victoria seemed like a ghost town to her with its much more relaxed and silent nature.

Her mother had sent her there to visit her grandmother, Lily, for the season, as opposed to sending her on her usual trip to New York or Los Angeles. She had said that it would be good for Tracy to learn more about her mother's hometown, and spend more time with her aging grandmother. Tracy, though highly reluctant, accepted and was jetted off to the capital of British Columbia.

She found the town to be quiet boring, despite its name of being a 'tourist town'. She and her grandmother had quickly visited every great attraction; China Town, Craigdarroch Castle, Emily Carr's house, the Butchart Gardens, and even Beacon Hill Park. All of these attractions were filled with history and, of course, were beautiful, but they quickly became boring and unattractive to the city girl.

Her grandmother would try and tell her stories about her life growing up in the town, and tried to inform her of how beautiful its vast history was. But the sixteen year-old would only absent-mindedly nod as she texted her friends. After awhile, Lily gave up on her granddaughter, who wasn't entertained by the television, and told her to explore her childhood home of eleven rooms for something to do.

Tracy remembered their conversation as she continued to search through the box that sat in her grandmother's attic, prepared to deem it as yet another lost cause when she pricked her finger on a shard of broken glass.

"Shit," She muttered, taking her hand out of the box and inspecting the cut.

She groaned as blood trickled out of the wound, and she looked around for something to wipe it off with. She spotted a dusty, but relatively clean looking rag sitting in the box, and decided it was better than nothing. She picked it up and shook off the dust, coughing as it entered her lungs. She cleared her throat and wiped her finger on the rag, putting pressure on her finger as she wrapped the cloth around it.

Her brown eyes wandered to a small, wooden box that was concealed by the rag. She looked at her finger once more before placing down the rag and carefully reaching for the box. She held it on her lap and wiped off the dust from the top, inspecting it's rusted hinges. It looked quite old and unused, almost like every other thing in the attic. But this was different, this wasn't her mother's baby pictures old, this seemed even older than that; like the late 19th or early 20th century.

History and relics never seemed to interest Tracy much, she was too busy with her obsession with One Direction and Robert Pattinson to think about that sort of thing. But something about this old box caught her attention, and she could rip her eyes away from it.

She shrugged and stood up, still holding the box. She walked out of the attic and down the stairs, making a turn for the second staircase that led to the first floor.

"Hey, grandma?" She called, her eyes still on the box.

"In the kitchen, Trace!" Lily's voice called back, and Tracy followed it.

"Hey, grandma," She said, entering the kitchen. "What's this?"

Lily turned around from the sink and put on her glasses, squinting as she looked at the box. "Where did you find that?" She asked, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel.

"In a box in the attic," Tracy said, placing it on the table.

"Hmm," Lily said, sitting down in front of the box. "Well, let's see what's in here."

Tracy pulled up a chair beside her grandmother, and watched as she opened the box. The both stared at the contents, some of them brown with age. There were various drawings and letters in it, along with a pearl necklace and ring with a gold band and lone diamond. Tracy spotted another piece of paper, and she reached over and grabbed it.

It was a picture of a man with, although it was hard to tell, honey blonde hair, fair skin, and stunning blue-green eyes. The kind-looking, handsome man was solemn he looked into what would have been the camera, and Tracy could see he was clad in an old, green military uniform.

Tracy tilted her head as she looked at the picture, then she flipped it over to look at the back.

_'James, March 1914.' _It read, and her eyebrows furrowed.

"Grandma, who's James?" She asked, looking up her mother's mother.

"Who?"

"James. That's what it says on the back of this."

"Let me see that," Lily said, and Tracy handed her the photo. She inspected both sides of the picture, her eyebrows furrowing. "I don't know, Tracy. I've never heard about this man before."

Tracy nodded, slightly disappointed.

"Unless," Lily said, still looking at the picture. "Unless this is James Nicholls."

"James Nicholls? Who's James Nicholls?" Tracy asked, her curiosity sparked.

Lily ignored her and continued. "Why this must have been taken just before the war..."

"War? What war? Grandma, who is this?" Tracy asked eagerly, her eyes beaming with excitement.

Lily looked at her granddaughter. "It's quite a long story, Trace."

"Oh, come on, grandma," Tracy said, shifting in her seat as she looked back at her. "This has been the first thing that's got my attention since those dudes who were hanging out downtown offering people free hugs!"

Lily sighed. "Well, alright,"

"Yes! Okay, so, who is this guy?" Tracy asked, pointing at the picture.

"Not yet," Lily said. "If you want to know about him so much, I'm gonna have to tell you the whole story."

"Okay, shoot," Tracy nodded.

"Well, you know how my mother and father were immigrants from the U.K.?" Lily asked, receiving a nod in response. "Alright, well, before my mother met my father, she was deeply in love with a cavalry officer named Captain James Nicholls, who fought in World War I."

Tracy thought about it for a moment. "That was like a hundred years ago, literally!"

"Yes, I know. My mother never talked about him though, I suppose because it's such a tragic story."

"How did you find out about it?"

"My aunt Sylvia told me about once, she said that even though they didn't know each other long, they were hopelessly in love and my mother couldn't bear to be away from him."

"What happened?" Tracy asked.

"Well..." Lily began. "I remember it like this..."

* * *

_~ 1913, England ~_

Evelyn Mortimer walked briskly down the road, holding a book in her hands while a bag of bread hung on her arm. The twenty year old blew a lock of her light brown hair away from her face as she read, sighing as it fell back into her face.

She felt a bit of water hit her face and she stopped in her tracks. She looked up towards the sky and could see dark clouds rolling in, flashes of lightning and loud claps of thunder following. She groaned as more rain fell onto her, and she covered her head with her book as she broke out into a run. The thunder clapped loudly as rain and lightning continued to surround her in her desperate race for home.

She closed her eyes as the rain pounded against her fair skin, and she could feel her dress sticking to her body. She turned a corner and opened her eyes last minute before slamming into someone and tumbling to the ground.

"Are you alright, miss?" A man's voice asked, and she looked up.

Staring down at her was a tall, handsome man with blonde hair and blue-green eyes which held a worried look as he stared at her.

"Oh, yes, I am," She said, picking up her book.

She went to pick herself up, but saw the man had his hand outstretched towards her. She smiled at him and took his hand, allowing him to help her up.

"Thank you," She said. She now had a better look at the man, and she realized how small she was compared to him; her height only reaching his chin.

"You're welcome," He responded with a smile, a loud clap of thunder breaking his gaze away from her. "You shouldn't be out here alone. Do you live nearby?"

"Somewhat," She responded, knowing her home was at least another mile to walk.

"Well, allow me to walk you there," He said, offering her his arm. "It's the least I could do for bumping into you."

She eyed his arm before looking into his eyes, their beautiful colour enchanting her.

"Alright," She nodded, taking his arm. "Thank you,"

After that night, they two continued to have contact with the other. James had purposely left his hat at her home when he dropped her off, then returned for it the next morning. He had asked her to accompany him on a walk, and she accepted with a blush. These small outings became more and more frequent, and often they would lose track of time and he would race her home before her father could notice they were an hour or two late.

James loved how kind and caring Evelyn was, and he could never get her out of his mind. He always thought about how her voice was soft and quiet, how her laugh sounded like the singing of a thousand angels, how she was always beautiful no matter what mood she was in. He loved to draw sketches of her, whether they were in her mother's sitting room, or under the shade of a tree, he would be sketching her. He would also sketch anything she was fond of, like a rose or a bluebird, once he even drew her younger sister Sylvia when she said she didn't want her to grow up.

He was enthralled with her, and she felt no different.

Evelyn would always admire James' charm and kindness, to her he was a true gentleman, the one she had been waiting for all her life. He had given her a pearl necklace for her twenty-first birthday, and she wore it everywhere, no matter what the occasion. He was always the best to have around when she was sad, and when her mother fell ill and died he had been the one to comfort her throughout it all, almost never leaving her side as her father slowly died of heartbreak after the death of his beloved wife and mother of his children.

They hadn't known each other long, yet they felt as if they had known each other for years. They could always tell whenever the other was sad, worried, happy, or angry, no matter how hard it was hidden. They never kept secrets from each other, and they were always mortified whenever they got into the slightest disagreement, worried the other would fall out of love.

The two had many romantic and sweet moments, but none so memorable and so cherished, as their first kiss.

It had been after the funeral of Evelyn's father, who was buried next to her mother. Throughout the funeral, James had held Evelyn's hand tightly as she cried with the rest of the mourners, her head on his shoulder as she watched her father's casket be lowered into the ground. He had wiped her tears and kissed her head as she wept, making sure that she didn't go through her loss alone.

He had walked with Evelyn and her sister back to their house, making sure they made it home safely. Sylvia had ran up to her room as soon as they entered the house, a hand covering her mouth as she sobbed for her father. The two sisters were alone, only having a few cousins and one aunt and uncle left as their family, and the distress broke their hearts.

Evelyn had cried harder as she watched her sister retreat to her room, and James held her close to him as she sobbed. He pulled away from her slight, and rested his hands on her shoulders.

"It's alright," He said softly, sending her a sad smile. "You aren't alone."

Tears continued to stream down her face, and she nodded, closing her eyes. James put his hand under her chin and tilted her head up, making her open her eyes. He smiled at her once more before leaning down and placing his lips on hers. Though she suffered through horrible sadness, James' kiss had given her a shred of hope when she had none, and it made her heart pound in excitement and happiness. They had stayed that way for a long while before they had to come up for air, and James rested his forehead on hers as he held her in his arms.

That kiss was a moment of pure, undisturbed bliss.

James started coming over even more, if that was possible. He would often say from the moment breakfast was served, to the minute supper was finished. Each day he'd greet Evelyn with a kiss, and wish her farewell with one, each one still as passionate and loving as the rest. The love they shared continued to grow, almost like a tree that would never stop reaching towards the sky until death said otherwise.

But, after a year of happiness, their time was halted by the arrival of war.

James, or Captain James Nicholls, was a cavalry officer, and he was being placed to take part in the war, something that worried Evelyn greatly.

There was a slim chance he would survive, and if he did, he would never be the same. Her happy, charming, kind, and caring James would be haunted by the horrors of war; his dreams filled with bloodshed and his mind plagued with the corpses of his comrades. Even if he tried to appear in good spirits, she would always know he wallowed in depression until he could finally take it no longer.

Evelyn straightened his military jacket as they stood among the other soldiers and their worried loved ones, and James watched her let out a sigh as she smoothed out the imaginary wrinkles, fighting back tears.

She didn't want to cry, she couldn't cry. James had been so strong when he had told her he had to leave for war, but she could hardly handle it then, and had cried for hours, putting strain on the already worried man. She didn't want herself to be a burden on him while he was away, he had to focus on fighting for the country and not on what was waiting for him back home, or what could await him in death.

"Evelyn," He said softly, his eyes landing on the pearl necklace he had given her.

"Hmm?" She asked, trying to distract herself from what was inevitable.

He sighed and put his hands on hers, taking them away from his chest. "Don't worry, everything will be fine." He gave her hands a reassuring squeeze and brought one up to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. "I promise you."

She nodded at him and gave him a small smile, but he could tell she was still uncertain.

He sighed and let go of one of her hands and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small box.

"Here," He said, handing it to her carefully. "I want you to have this before I leave."

She let go of his other hand and carefully opened the box, gasping as she saw a gold-banded ring with a single diamond on it.

"James," She breathed, tears coming to her eyes as she took the ring out and admired it.

He took her left hand in one of his and the ring in the other. "Evelyn, when I return, I want you to become my beautiful wife."

He looked at her in the eyes, awaiting her reply. She nodded as tears flowed freely down her face, and he smiled at her, sliding the ring onto her slender finger. He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it, letting his lips linger there as he closed his eyes tightly.

"James, what if you don't come back?" She finally asked, the question plaguing both their minds.

He removed his lips for her hand and sighed, pulling her into a hug. "I will return," He said into her hair. "No matter how long it takes me, I _will _return to you. I swear on my life that I will return for you."

She pulled away from him and planted a kiss on his lips, a tear running down her cheek. "Don't forget about me," She said, pulling away.

He placed a hand on her cheek, and wiped away her tears. "I'll never forget about you, I promise, and please don't forget about me."

She shook her head. "I won't, I promise."

He smiled sadly at her. "I promise you won't have to wait your life for me. I'll be back, I swear."

She nodded and buried her head in his neck, him rubbing circles soothingly on her back.

"I love you," He whispered, fighting back his own tears in an effort to remain strong for her.

"I love you too," She whispered, her voice shaking.

They stayed like that for a moment, and everything around them seemed to fall silent, as if they were alone in the word. They didn't notice the other people sending off the ones they loved, they didn't notice of soldiers preparing for war, they only noticed each other. They only heard each other's breathing and felt the others touch, never wanting to break the embrace. They would have lived in the moment for eternity, but it was time. It was time for them to say farewell, it was time for him to leave for war, while she wept and prayed for his safe return to her.

He pulled away from her and looked into her tearful eyes. He couldn't find his voice to say goodbye, neither could she. All he could manage to do was send her one last reassuring smile before letting go.

One last smile before letting go of the last moment they saw eachother.

James wrote to Evelyn every chance he could, and although he couldn't get a reply back, knowing that she knew he was fine eased his heart and mind. Being away from her was just as horrible as he imagined it, if not worse. He would often have dreams of her, and would find himself drawing her; her face being something he'd come to know by heart.

He had only managed to write her five times before that fateful day, the day he was greeted by death.

The cavalry charges had worked perfectly at first, them having the upper hand against the Germans. But that was short-lived as the cavalry men were greeted by high-powered machine guns, each taking down the Englishmen one by one.

James saw the gun pointed directly at him, and he knew that within seconds, he would be dead.

He had lied to Evelyn that day, he promised he would return to her, yet now he knew that death was inevitable. He thought he would return, or perhaps he had hoped. Perhaps his hope had misguided him, and he was never meant to return to her, perhaps he was always meant to die and leave her. His last thought was him promising himself that he'd never forget about her, and a tear ran down his cheek before he was struck by a moment of pain before being thrown into blackness.

Even in death, he'd never forget.

Evelyn was devastated by the news of her beloved James' death, and she cried for days before running out of tears. She began to look like walking death; bags under her eyes, sickly pale skin, her weight declining dramatically. Her heart was shattered, she never laughed, never smiled, and never spoke, all of the things James loved so much. Her grief was too consuming for her to be happy, and she wallowed in her sadness.

One day, it became too much for her to bear, and she walked to a cliff. She jumped off the edge and would have fallen to her death if her old friend, Henry Banks, hadn't followed her out of concern and caught her wrist. Sylvia and Henry worried for her sanity, and they decided to move to Canada, away from the memories that haunted the fragile, broken Evelyn.

They didn't go to James' funeral, as they were afraid it would set her off. Instead, they had Evelyn gather up all of the pictures, drawings, and letters that involved James, and they even had her gather up the ring and the necklace. They told her to put it in a box and bury it, as their funeral to James since they didn't go to his.

She did bury a box, only it had nothing inside of it.

She had put everything she had that reminded her of James in a box, and hid it in her bag. She took it with them to Canada but never told a soul it was there, leading her sister and her friend to believe it was back in England, forever buried in the soil. But Evelyn hadn't buried the box for one reason, one promise she was going to keep to James whether dead or alive.

No matter what, she'd never forget.

* * *

"...And that's what happened," Lily finished her story. "I suppose my mother hid this box in the attic so my father wouldn't find it."

She looked over to Tracy and found the teenage girl wiping tears away from her eyes.

Tracy had been genuinely moved by the tale, and her heart broke for her great-grandmother. How horrible that heartbreak must have been for her, and here she was crying over the fact that Zayn Malik was dating Perrie Edwards. Tracy had no idea what real heartbreak felt like, no matter how much claimed to, she never suffered the same distress as Evelyn Mortimer did.

"So," She asked, sniffing. "What happened to Evelyn after she came here?"

"Well, she married Henry ten years after they came here, then later on in her life, I think when she was forty-five or forty-six, she gave birth to me." Lily said.

"So, she got over James?"

"No, I don't think she did. I think that's why she had me so late in life, because she wanted me to be James' child."

"Did that affect your relationship?"

"Oh, no," Lily said, shaking her head. "My mother and I were as close as ever. It didn't matter that I wasn't James' child, she loved me just the same. She also loved my father too, and they had a wonderful life together, but she could never replace James, and in the end, her heart couldn't take it anymore, and she died."

"She didn't commit suicide...Did she?" Tracy asked.

"Oh, no, Tracy, she was able to get over her depression before I was born," Lily assured. "No, she died of heart break when she was sixty-eight, and I've missed her dearly ever since."

Tracy nodded and looked at the picture of James again, her mind retelling the beautiful story.

"Now, then," Lily said, breaking her granddaughter out of her thoughts. "Shall we see what else is in here?"

The two read the five letters contained in the box, James' heart being poured out into each one. They spoke of his experiences during the war, but most of all, they stated his love for Evelyn and held promises that he would return, which were unfortunately broken. It also had the letter that was sent to her when James had died, explaining how he died serving his country and wishing her the best. The granddaughter and grandmother admired the various drawings, many of them of Evelyn, and inspected the jewelry with careful hands, soaking in the history.

"Well, Trace," Lily said, putting down a drawing. "That's it."

"Yeah," Tracy nodded. "Should we put it back in the box, and put it in the attic?"

"Actually, I want you to take it back to Toronto with you, so you can have a piece of your great-grandmother."

"What? No, grandma, I can't take this home with me! She's your mother."

"I know, Tracy. But I already have a piece of my mother," Lily placed a hand on her heart. "In here."

"I can't..." Tracy said, eying the box.

"You can," Lily said firmly. "Now, why don't you put everything back in it, then take it to your room."

Tracy looked at the book for a moment before hugging her grandmother. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Lily said, hugging her granddaughter.

They carefully placed everything back into the box, making sure not to damage what they deemed priceless.

"Okay," Tracy said, closing the box and picking it up. "I'm going to take this to my room."

"Alright," Lily said, and she looked at the clock. "My goodness! It's ten o'clock! Where did the time go? Looks like we're having a late dinner!"

Tracy chuckled and nodded, walking out of the kitchen. She walked towards the stairs and glanced at the top of them, freezing in her place at what she saw.

Standing there, was Captain James Nicholls, clad in his military uniform, and his love Evelyn, looking not a day over twenty-one. They held hands as they smiled down at her, their eyes sparkling and their figures misty.

She stared at the couple for what seemed like hours, her mouth hanging open and her eyes wide, making her resemble a fish.

They chuckled at her before looking at each other, love evident in their eyes. James put his hand under Evelyn's chin and tilted her head up towards him. He leaned down and placed his lips on hers. As they kissed, they slowly began to evaporate until they completely vanished.

Tracy stared at the spot, flabbergasted by what she had seen.

She didn't know if she had gone crazy, or if she had actually seen the spirits of James and Evelyn. Could it be possible that when she died, Evelyn was reunited with James, her one true love? Had death done them part, then later brought them together? They seemed so vivid, so real, and unlike the movie effects that now seemed cheap compared to what had just happened.

Perhaps James did keep his promise, perhaps he finally did return to Evelyn. Maybe death graciously reunited them for eternity, or maybe Tracy unearthing the century old secret had finally brought the two together, and them appearing to her was a way of saying thank you.

Tracy didn't know what the reason could have been. All she knew for sure was:

She'd never forget.

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**Review, please.**


End file.
